Forever and Always
by She's a Star
Summary: After some not-so-nice comments on Ron's part, a distraught Hermione chooses not to attend the much-anticipated Halloween costume ball. Throw in advice from Parvati, a guilty Weasley, and an empty common room, and what do you get?...Read and see. :)


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Forever and Always

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by She's a Star

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Disclaimer: The brilliant world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, who simply must get the fifth book out before I go completely bonkers and they lock me up in St. Mungo's.

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Author's Note: I have been so desperate to write a R/H lately, and what really motivated me was a Snape/Hermione fic written by my dear friend Gedia Kacela, which reinforced my passionate beliefs that Hermione belongs with NO ONE BUT RON, and vice versa.

...Especially not Snape.

*shudders*

Happy Halloween :)

~*~

Hermione Granger had been raised to dislike Halloween.

It was to be expected, of course, when one was the daughter of a pair of dentists, and yet Hermione had always slightly resented them for it. As a child, it had made her miserable when her classmates talked excitedly about their costumes and candy, while her parents insisted that she stay home and read assorted classics by Edgar Allan Poe. (She'd found them incredibly boring at the time, and to that very day was quite convinced that she could never hear The Telltale Heart again and it would still be too soon.)

When she'd come to Hogwarts, everything had changed. She was free to celebrate Halloween just as she wished, be it the yearly feast or attending a Deathday Party. And this year, there was a costume ball that she'd been completely set on attending. 

Until about an hour ago, thanks to Ron.

It was always thanks to Ron.

She knew that letting his comments get to her was foolish and juvenile, but she simply couldn't help it. When he threw his petty insults her way, it stung in a way that nothing else did. She never bothered to stop and decipher _why_ they hurt her so. It was almost as though she feared the answer.

No, all she knew was that it hurt.

It had been a silly comment - she was so fixed on crying now that she couldn't even remember what he'd said. God, she hated it that she seemed to cry at everything he said. She hadn't been this emotional about him before...

Everything was changing. 

Or maybe, she reconsidered, everything was exactly the same, but she was suddenly becoming aware of it.

Either way, it was something she liked and hated. It was awkward and beautiful at the same time.

His words came back to her at once, completely unexpected as his angered voice echoed through her mind.

_"Bloody hell, Hermione, if all you're going to do is nag, then don't bother coming. You'll ruin the whole bloody thing...we're supposed to have FUN. Or don't you know what that is??"_

_"Fine,"_ she'd retorted stiffly, feeling that abominable knot form in the back of her throat, _"I won't go. Have a good time."_

_"Oh, Hermione, I didn't mean it,"_ he'd called after her desperately, but the tears had already begun to fall, and there was no way she was turning around.

So now here she was, rocking back and forth on her four-poster with Crookshanks in her arms as she tried to stop crying.

The large ginger cat stared up at her, looking a bit frightened.

"I know, I know," she sniffled, wiping her cheeks with her sleeve, "It's pathetic, isn't it, Crookshanks? I'm always crying over the stupid things he says...I probably look a horrible fright right now, don't I?...ah, well, that doesn't matter. I'm not going."

Crookshanks purred urgently, nuzzling her palm.

"No," Hermione said stubbornly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I don't care what you say, I'm _not_ going. It's clear that no one wants me there. I-"

"Hermione?"

Parvati Patil stepped into the dormitory, already dressed in her costume (a sky blue gown and tiara) and looking rather concerned. Hermione immediately felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment - being caught arguing with her cat (who, needless to say, could not argue back) while tears streamed down her face was quite humiliating.

"Are you all right?" Parvati asked, biting her lip. "Ron's asking about you."

"Tell him I'm not going," Hermione responded stonily. "Tell him to have a great time."

"Hermione, honestly," Parvati said, impatient, as she sank down onto the bed next to her. "The boy is head over heels for you. At least go, he'll probably want to dance with you-"

"Head over heels?" Hermione scoffed, wondering just _how_ much nail polish remover one had to apply before going completely insane. "Please. He detests me half of the time."

"Hermione, I know _a lot_ about guys," Parvati informed her solemnly. "And the one thing that you simply _must_ keep in mind is that they're idiots."

"Oh, thank you," Hermione snapped sarcastically. "I really hadn't figured that out for myself already."

Parvati clucked her tongue impatiently. "I'm not done yet...as I was saying, they are the most idiotic when they're in love with you."

She stared pointedly at Hermione, who immediately burst into hysterical laughter. Parvati studied her as though she were an extremely dangerous escapee from St. Mungo's, but that didn't stop her dormmate from positively shaking in mirth.

"Hermione....?" she questioned testily.

Hermione attempted to answer in between giggles. "Professor Snape...would fall in love with me...before Ron did."

"Well, then, my dear, our potions master must be smitten," Parvati announced haughtily. "Because believe me, I know a lovestruck fool when I see one, and Ron definitely qualifies."

"Please, Parvati," Hermione said, shaking her head. "I _know_ Ron. I know what kind of girls he likes."

"Which are...?"

"Pretty ones," Hermione responded, fighting to sound casual. "Flawless, narcissistic, and preferably blonde."

"Oh, Hermione," Parvati sighed knowingly. 

"What?" Hermione snapped, annoyed. Never before had Parvati known more than her about any subject, and she didn't like it now.

"Boys like girls like that, but they don't want to date them," Parvati explained matter-of-factly. "He's smitten with you, Hermione, I'm sure of it. I've seen the way he looks at you when you're not looking back."

"Oh, honestly, Parvati," Hermione groaned. "Why should I even care in the first place? He's just Ron."

She prayed that Parvati would believe her.

"You expect me to believe that?"

Oh dear.

"No....well....wait...yes, of course I do!"

"Well, I don't," Parvati announced. "Now, are you coming or not?"

"No!" Hermione proclaimed in frustration as Parvati stood up. "And _why_, exactly, don't you believe me?"

"Because," Parvati answered with a haughty smile as she swung open the common room door. "I've seen the way you look at him, too."

~*~

Approximately a half an hour after the ball had started, Hermione wished desperately that she had gone.

Gryffindor tower was completely silent - the first through third years were already up in their dormitories, and it seemed that every fourth year and above had attended the costume ball.

Sighing, she closed her eyes and collapsed backwards onto the scarlet sofa-

"BLOODY HELL!!!!"

-only to find that someone was already on it.

An _extremely_ familiar someone.

"Ron!" Hermione cried. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you at the ball??"

"Get...off...me," he croaked in response, gasping for air. 

"Oh," Hermione said awkwardly, standing up at once. "Oh, of course."

Ron inhaled deeply before scooting over and making room for her. She sat tentatively.

"So, why aren't you at the ball?"

"Dunno," he replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Decided it wouldn't be that great, anyway. Harry's going with Ginny, you know, and...dunno, there would be no one for me to hang out with since you weren't going."

The tips of his ears had gone crimson.

"You could have talked to Seamus, or Dean, or Neville," Hermione reminded him.

Ron shrugged again. "Yes, well...I wanted to talk to you."

She felt her cheeks flush, and he immediately began to stammer.

"You...or Harry...or, you know, best friends. One of my best friends."

"Of course," Hermione agreed with a nod.

_Of course he didn't want to talk to _you_, Hermione,_ she added silently to herself. _Parvati's poisoned your mind. He is _not_ the least bit interested in you. Well, at least, not like...that._

"And besides, my costume was bloody awful," he continued, "And I didn't feel too well - too much treacle pudding, I reckon - and...and...oh, screw it. I felt bad."

"Why?" Hermione asked, though she thought she had an idea of what was coming.

"Well, I was mean to you, and I didn't mean it..." he paused for a moment, worried. "You knew I didn't mean it, didn't you?"

Hermione nodded quickly.

"Well, then...why were you crying?"

He knew. How in God's name did he know?! Had he _seen_ her?! How could he have seen her? She'd had her back to him the whole time, she was sure of it. How-

Parvati.

She'd told.

Ohhhh, Hermione would get her. She would...she would tell her the wrong answers the next time she wanted help on homework! She would curse her mascara blue!  
"I was going to stay anyway," he added hurriedly. "I felt really, really bad, and then Parvati told me that you were in there crying and talking to your cat."

"Oh, oh," Hermione said, panicked. "I wasn't _talking_ to him, Parvati must have misunderstood, I was just...you know, thinking aloud-"

"I talk to Pig sometimes," Ron cut in simply.

"Really?" Hermione asked, smiling. "What do you talk about?"

"Ah, nothing very interesting," he replied, grinning. "Mostly about what a huge git he is."

"That's awful of you, Ron!" Hermione scolded lightly, slapping at his arm. "Owls have feelings too, you know!"

"He's used to it by now, I reckon," Ron assured her. "But anyway, this morning I was telling him some ghost stories down at the Owlery, and he was completely terrified. Feathers standing on end and all."

"He must be an intelligent owl, to be able to tell what you're saying," Hermione commented.

"Well, I reckon he doesn't," Ron responded with a shrug. "But I was making some scary faces along with it. That's probably what got him."

Hermione nodded in agreement, laughing softly.

It was quiet for a moment as she watched the flames dance in the fireplace. His arm brushed lightly against hers, and she briefly wondered if it had always tingled like that when they touched. 

"Hermione," he said weakly.

"What?"

"D'you think it's awful, that we fight so much?"

This caught her off guard - Ron was hardly ever serious, and she had yet to really master how to handle it when he was.

Finally, she decided to simply be truthful.

"Yes, sometimes."

"I don't mean to," Ron said apologetically.

She could tell that he meant it.

"Neither do I."

"I mean, you're really....really great, Hermione. And I don't know why I go off at you like that."

She felt her cheeks flush. "So are you. I don't mean to get mad at you, either." She paused. "I suppose it's just...just how our relationship functions."

Ron nodded. "Well...if-" he paused, laughing shortly. "If. Right. Let me rephrase that. _When_ I'm being a complete prat, please don't take me seriously."

"I'll try not to," she promised. "And please...don't take me seriously either."

His ears were positively flaming red as he continued. "Well, I just...Hermione, I care about you a lot. You're one of my best friends in the entire world, and...just...thank you."

He looked so vulnerable, so earnest, and yet so completely _Ron_ at that moment that she just wanted to throw her arms around him and...and...

Well, she didn't know what.

Instead, she opted to kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you, too."

He grinned at her, absently fingering the spot her lips had touched.

"Best friends forever?" he asked.

Hermione smiled back.

"Always."

After a moment of silent smiles, Ron studied the grandfather clock in the corner and announced, "The ball's only been going on for forty-five minutes or so. D'you want to go?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'd rather stay here, actually."

"So would I," Ron replied, studying her in a way that made her heart flutter a bit. She vaguely wondered if this was what Parvati meant when she talked about his looking at her.

"Well," she said, "We may as well do something in the spirit of Halloween. Do you feel like telling the story that scared poor Pigwidgeon so horribly?"

Ron shook his head. "Believe me, it was stupid. I think it only scares owls. Stupid git owls."

"In that case," Hermione replied, "I've got a book of famous ghost stories in my trunk. Should I go get it? We could read aloud a bit."

"Sounds good," Ron said with a smile.

"All right then," Hermione said, rising and walking across the common room. It suddenly felt very cold when she wasn't next to him, despite the roaring fire. 

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a tiny flurry of feathers zoomed right at her, narrowly missing her head.

"Pig!" she squealed. "How did you get in here?"

He merely hooted excitedly at her in reply before landing on Ron's shoulder.

"Oh, it's you, you stupid git," he said, sounding pleased. "You aren't supposed to be in here, you know. I reckon you flew in an open window somewhere, didn't you? I..."

Hermione smiled to herself, leaving Ron to talk to his owl while she went to search for A Hundred and One True Ghost Stories in the dark recesses of her book-filled trunk.

Perhaps if she would have stayed a few moments longer, she would have heard Ron's next proclamation to Pig, which was certainly something worth witnessing.

"For the love of Quidditch," he muttered, lightly stroking the owl with his index finger. "I'm so bloody in love with her."

FIN


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